Celya Mexico population 300,000. Celya is a grinding Mexican city with no
features worthy of tourism. Here the people are working at the grinding life
of Mexican agriculture. It's a city that services the needs of agriculture
and industry without anyof the frills for tourist. This was Mexico, this is
what I wanted to see, and indeed at this moment it was what I needed. My
oil pressure sender had stopped working the day I left Batopilas and I was
looking for a new one. Celya seemed like the kind of no nonsense town where
I could find one. I stopped at some random autoparts store. Before I could
get to the door a man on a bicycle stopped to talk to me. Of course he
wanted to talk tires. He spoke English and we talked about four wheel drive
vehicles and tires. I explained what I needed and he told me where I needed
to go. He even drew a map. In Celya if you need autoparts you go to
Autopartes de Ponce, or as anyone who lived within 70 miles and owned a
vehicle would know it as simply Ponce�s. I followed his directions through
the crazy traffic of fruit and vegetable trucks, busses, and taxis to
Autopartes de Ponce. Ponce's was big. It had three garage style doors to
choose from. I picked the wrong one. I stepped into an area that looked
like the trading floor of the NYSE. Grease covered men all fighting their
way to the counter. Once at the counter you could watch the five people
working behind it randomly pick someone to help. There was no order to it
and you could stand there for an hour. I patiently fought for my counter
space and then began waiting some more. Finally I was a random winner. I
explained what I needed and the guy told me I had picked the wrong door.
You see they handled different types of parts behind the different doors.
All this waiting for nothing, you bet. I picked the wrong door again.
Mercifully the wait wasn't long before I found out. So I went to the only
remaining door and was helped by a Finnish expatriat who spoke English.
Unfortunately he what he had to tell me was not good. It seems the boys at
Nissan had an agreement with the Mexican government not to allow any other
Japanese cars into Mexico until 2007. In exchange for the protection Nissan
built an assembly plant in Mexico. What this meant to me was that no one in
Mexico would have any parts for my Toyota. There were salvage yards
however. I got the directions and found all the salvage yards in Celya.
They were all closed for the day. With nothing better to do I drove to
south to Salvatierra and then north toward Cortazar. I saw one hacienda
along the way that looked interesting but I didn't stop. I needed to find a
place to stay for the night. As I entered the town of Canada I began
smelling the distinct smell of gear oil, SAE 85W-90 to be precise. I looked
under the Grey Ghost and could see oil coming flowing out of the rear axle
through the brake drum. No Mom that shouldn't happen. I looked in Canada
for a hotel, but there weren't any. I started to drive the few miles to
Cortazar, but I was stopped before getting out of Canada. My rear axle was
making a horrific sound of metal scraping against metal. This also resulted
in my rear tire locking up. Now is when I got bit in the ass for ignoring
that ominous sound I first hear after fording the Rio Urique, and that was
several stories ago. I nursed my truck into the nearest empty space and
slept in the rain that night.
The next morning the owner of the property showed up and she chewed me out
for being there. I pleaded and explained as best I could. I told her I
would be gone in about an hour. She left and I pulled off my brake drum
while the coffee was brewing. I shook a bunch of metal pieces including
half a ball bearing out of the brake drum. Yes Mom that's real bad. I
removed all the internal parts of the brake so the tire wouldn't lock up. I
drank some coffee and put the wheel back on. The woman was back with a
friend this time. They bitched at me some more, threatened me with their
husbands and the police. Gee ladies I'm trying here. Talk about kicking a
dog when he's down. I managed to ever so slowly pull the Ghost off her
property. Apparently that crunchy metallic sound had no affect on her
sympathies. She continued to give me the evil eye as me and the Ghost
limped off her property. And I thought the people at Presa Zarco were
tough.
Allow me a moment to summarize the situation for you so that you can fully
appreciate the severity of my dilemma. I'm in a town where there is no
hotel, no parts store, no mechanic, not even a gas station. I'm in a
country where I don't speak the language, and they don't have parts for my
truck anywhere. I'm standing across the fence from two ladies who hate me.
What am I thinking at a moment like this? "When the fun ends the adventure
begins." So I walked away looking for an answer to a question I didn't know
how to ask singing that Janis Joplin ditty: "Oh Lord won't you buy me a
Mercedes-Benz My friends all drive Porches' I must make amends????." I
walked thru town trying to find a place to work on my truck. It had to be
close because the Ghost wasn't going to move very far before giving up the
ghost. I got a few "no's" and some empty leads. I was retracing my steps
by now and I saw a man who I hadn't spoken to before. He had a big gravel
lot in front of his house. I tried to explain and I'm sure the explanation
made no sense, but he agreed to let me park my truck at his house. He had
me park in his garden so my truck would be safe inside the fence. I parked
between the corn, beans, tomatoes, pumpkins, and the limes.
I got out the tools and his wife and daughter came over to get a look at me.
His wife's name was Maria. She had that tortilla shape and strong Injun
charcteristics. When she smiled her cheeks would bunch up, push her eyes
closed and her black eyelashes would form a smile along with her mouth. It
was a smile that made others smile. I'm sure that pretty smile was probably
the reason German, her husband, first noticed her. German had a smile too.
All of his teeth were capped with silver and when he smiled it was like
staring into a Spanish treasure chest. They were happy and wonderful
people. I would recommend fixing your truck in their garden anytime.
I now began hunting for autoparts instead of haciendas as I had intended.
My axle bearing and seals were demolished and I couldn't get the
identification numbers from them. I called home and Brian managed to get me
some numbers. I then rode the bus to Celya and went to Ponces'. I stood in
the long line again just so they could tell me they couldn't get my bearing.
Absolutely couldn't get the bearing. Celya being an industrial town had a
Timken distribuitor. (Timken is one of the world biggest bearing
manufactures) The distribuitor was conviently located close to Ponces', but
that�s where my luck stopped. The Timken distributor did not have, and
could not get the bearing I needed. Ouch! What to do? Go back to Germans
and get a good nights sleep. German had put me up in the empty house across
the road. Someone obviously lived there but they were gone. So I had the
house to myself the entire time I spent fixing my truck. Sometimes the sun
shines on you even when you don't deserve it.
The next day I headed for Salvatierra on the bus. The previous day when I
drove through I saw a wrecked Toyota truck beside the road. The truck was
at a mechanics shop and it had all the right parts but they wouldn't sell
them to me. After a long misunderstanding the mechanic finally got it
through to me that it wasn't his truck. Oh. He told me where to find the
owner and I tracked him down, almost. Where he was supposed to be he wasn't
and he wouldn't be back until 6pm. With several hours to kill I just
started walking around town looking for old Toyotas. I didn't find any but
I did talk to the guys at an auto body repair shop. They didn't have any
Toyota parts; however, there was a guy down the street?? I found the guy
down the street and explained my dilemma. He walked over to a pile of sand,
reached into the sand and pulled out a 1980 Toyota pickup truck axle. "It's
a miracle !" I said. I put the axle shaft in my bag and went for the bus.
As I walked through the bus terminal I saw the lady who hated me for parking
on her lot. I said hello and she mumbled something while staring at me in
surprise. I got back to Germans and put the whole assembly together in the
garden and in the rain. It was late so I spent another night in "my house".
The next morning German was over at the garden of "my house". We were
talking about this mountain nearby. He told my you could drive to the top.
One hour later German and I were bouncing our way to the top. The top of
the mountain was in the clouds so we didn't see much, but we sure ate good.
Who cares about the view lets eat! Germans wife had sent a bunch of
marinated beef and other fixins up with us. We built a fire and roasted
everything. That beef was incredible I ate and ate.
I was "forced" to spend yet another night because they were having Menudo
the next day. Menudo is a weird Mexican dish made from all the parts of a
cow that we use for dog food in the USA. I couldn't say no. No I didn't
like it but I told them I loved it and even had another big bowl to prove
it. Whatever it took to let them know I appreciated their hospitality.
With my stomach full of cow stomach, and my axle spinning like it should I
headed for the coast.
